


Triangle

by blurhawaii



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3141536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurhawaii/pseuds/blurhawaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico wakes to find Jenson’s name sharpied on the inside of his arm and wonders what kind of practical joke he’s been roped into during the night. It’s not until he’s licked his thumb and is trying to scrub away the lettering that doesn’t fade that it occurs to him; he’s home in Monaco with his wife, who’s unlikely to write another man’s name across his skin for whatever reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triangle

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I mean no disrespect to significant others. Secondly, this is wildly a 'what if?' scenario. One that kind of got away from me and wouldn't end.

-

The world grinds to a halt the first Sunday in March.

Nico wakes to find Jenson’s name sharpied on the inside of his arm and wonders what kind of practical joke he’s been roped into during the night. It’s not until he’s licked his thumb and is trying to scrub away the lettering that doesn’t fade that it occurs to him; he’s home in Monaco with his wife, who’s unlikely to write another man’s name across his skin for whatever reason.

Sitting up, he discovers he’s alone in their bedroom and so he drags himself from the warmth to seek her out, whilst absently trailing his fingers up and down the slightly raised curve of an ‘s’.

He finds Vivian in the next room. She’s staring blankly through the television and she’s never been a morning person so stupidly Nico thinks nothing of it. As he brushes the hair off the slope of her shoulders, he catches sight of her hand worrying the skin on her forearm and, through the gaps in her fingers, he sees the same broad strokes of ink and he frowns.

“What did we do last night? Did you break out the body paint while I was sleeping?” Nico’s laugh dies in his throat when Vivian flinches away from his touch and the various fragments of the morning clash horribly in his head all at once. “Vee,” he asks, “what’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, she rubs her arm raw and gestures sluggishly at the television screen.

Nico looks and is met with the half joyous, half distraught faces of the world, all brandishing their arms into the air like their own limb is something foreign to them. Without the sound on, it takes a moment for him to understand but he soon wishes he hadn’t bothered to try.

Soulmates, the news ticker reads and just like that the world slams on its brakes, locking all four wheels in the process and landing Nico in the biggest flat spot of his life.

“I didn’t…I couldn’t look at yours,” Vivian says after an indeterminable silence. “It didn’t seem fair.”

And Nico instinctively withdraws his arm from her neck, laughing shallowly as his blood runs cold.

It turns out he _was_ right this morning. This _is_ a practical joke; one he’d rather not be involved in, only it’s on a global scale. The world is something of a bitch, he decides then and there.

-

His wife’s soulmate is a name unfamiliar to them both, printed without ceremony across her skin and wordlessly they agree it’s the best of a bad situation, not knowing him from Adam.

When it comes time for Nico to literally bare his soul, he understandably falters. The words that had looked so innocent this morning are suddenly weighted down by their recognisable cursive and Nico can’t stand the undeserved guilt he feels as he shelters Jenson’s name against his stomach, away from Vivian’s desperate eyes.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Nico pre-empts and he’s only making it worse because Vivian takes one look at the name on his arm and visibly shudders. He feels like he’s drowning, like he can’t draw in enough air, and he reaches for her hand where her wedding ring gleams. Unfortunately, it’s also the arm that’s now marked and no longer hers. “This,” he says, turning her arm over and twisting the ring around her finger, “this means everything. I love you. You know that.”

She allows the touch long enough for Nico to leech some strength from it but when she pulls back, she doesn’t stop there. She stands and sends one last filthy glare towards the television before she heads for the bedroom, shutting the door behind her with a sense of finality that hurts.

Nico’s hand finds his own ring while he grits his teeth. He keeps a straight face through the pain only because he’s had so much practice this past year. It still hurts and it’s a shame, he was just getting used to the added weight too.

-

Everyone is too self-involved to worry about the bigger picture and for the first few days the problems inherent in their new world kick off on a much smaller, more personal scope.

Sure there are riots in the streets but the riots soon turn inward. People are not angry at the world, they’re angry at each other and jealousy flares around the idea of having the love of your life’s name plastered across someone you’ve never met. By Thursday it’s not unusual to read about soulmate related murders in the morning paper.

A little closer to home, Vivian is talking to him sporadically, curt and only when necessary. None of this is their fault but he doesn’t blame her. He’s giving her the space she needs; it just means he’s been eating breakfast alone these past few days.

On Friday, over his first cup of coffee, Nico lingers on a tiny, barely-there article in the paper about a teenage boy who woke up to find his arm completely bare. He claims to be nonplussed about the fact, while the interviewer constantly projects back heartbreak the boy simply doesn’t feel. It’s an awkward article but Nico envies him.

Nico envies the boy, with his hands so free of someone else’s blood.

-

His father calls just once to tell him he’s the product of a completed pair and he honestly has no idea what to do with that information. According to the news, that makes him better than others though Nico actually throws down the phone at that point, not believing it for a second.

It does lead him down an interesting path of thought though.

Nico’s biggest strength has always been: knowing the facts and figures. He likes to be knowledgeable about things that concern him and since stepping outside lately is seen as mostly unwise, he spends a lot of his free time reading up.

The logistics surrounding their new world is a deep, dark rabbit hole and it takes a lot longer than Nico would have guessed for a money grabbing hand to claw its way out from the bottom. It’s a middle-aged woman who first starts the rumours. She brokers a deal with a local gossip magazine and the next day pictures of her arm are pasted on every front page. The letters proclaiming the newest hot celebrity as her soulmate are a shade darker than all the others he’s seen and people are quick to jump down her throat.

What about people who have the same name, Nico wonders, how does the mark differentiate? The question opens up too many tangents in his mind to let him sleep at night.

Unfortunately, no one can answer his questions because everyone is just as clueless.

He pretends to be asleep when Vivian tiptoes into the bedroom when, in fact, he hasn’t slept in two days and, as he lies awake for hours, he thinks.

It’s quite possible the name on his arm is just a coincidence, he tells himself. Maybe there’s another Jenson Button out there; short, fat and balding. Yeah, and it’s also possible all of this has just been a vivid nightmare.

-

The first race of the season rolls around fast.

Vivian elects to stay at home and Nico doesn’t feel up to pushing it. He flies out to Australia alone because the show must go on, and it’s almost comical to see how the paddock is a sea of sleeves first thing in the morning, despite the rampant humidity.

Nico has gone a step further than most, wrapping his arm with an old ace bandage, like he would a tennis injury. He’s not taking any chances and while running into Jenson is an inevitability, he still hasn’t decided if he’s going to say anything. He might just have to take his cue from Jenson and be done with it.

His team hasn't been debriefed by the time he gets there and the question of how he wants to deal with the issue is solved with a single glance at his arm. When they follow him through the turnstile, it’s with pasted on smiles as though nothing is different.

One photo of his covered arm and the buzz dies before it can really begin.

Someone stops him for an autograph, maybe in hopes of getting a better look at his mark, and Nico is ashamed at how paranoid he feels already so he signs his name with an apologetic flourish.

The noise of the cameras spikes again once he’s almost home-free, like someone is using his entrance to slip by unnoticed and Nico turns back to see Kimi weaving around a camera in a short sleeved Ferrari shirt.

If he’s aiming for his usual blasé attitude, this is the wrong way to go about it. Short sleeves scream ‘look at me’ and Nico can’t help but mimic the press as they hone in on his exposed arms. Kimi’s iceman tattoo curls from elbow to wrist as it has done for years but there are extra lines where there shouldn’t be now, and the end product comes across as something of an illegible mess.

Nico lets out a bark of laughter once understanding dawns. It’s loud enough that Kimi hears it across the way and their eyes lock together. Nico smiles at him, his nose scrunching up in genuine amusement over a secret shared joke, and Kimi only frowns. There’s an aborted move to check his arm before he darts into the Ferrari hospitality unit, but Nico could easily have imagined it. Kimi has never struck him as a man who worries about appearances so Nico’s opinion would mean even less.

It does answer one of his queries though. About how the mark doesn’t care about a person’s preference for body art. It seems perfectly willingly to break up something beautiful in order to ruin someone’s life; such as Kimi’s tattoo or Nico’s marriage.

-

To call the ensuing press conference a disaster is an understatement.

Jenson bleeds out of the doorway two minutes before they’re scheduled to start and if Nico is tired then Jenson must be exhausted. His eyes are red-rimmed and watery, looking particularly bad for a man who’s reclaimed his seat in F1 for another year, not just through skill but sheer likability. He edges past Kimi’s centre seat like he’s avoiding a landmine and he doesn’t react to Nico’s gentle greeting or the hesitant brush of his hand to get his attention.

When Nico takes his seat on Kimi’s other side, he’s thankful he won’t have to deal with small talk while they wait and, as soon as they are live, Nico stares forward, unflinching. There’s a chance Vivian is watching from home and he doesn’t want to give her any reason to doubt him.

All goes well until the very end.

There’s one question concerning the marks on their arms, and it’s saved for last to come across as a joke, but everyone in the room sits a little straighter, listens a little harder, so it’s not exactly fooling anyone.

Felipe pipes up first, sounding jovial. It’s alright for him though, he has nothing to hide and he bares his wife’s name happily for the cameras. He may be wearing long sleeves in solidarity but rolling them up when asked seems to defeat the purpose.

No one else says a word.

It prompts the same question just worded differently and Jenson is diplomatic when he clears his throat and says, “We’re here to race. Anything else is unimportant,” while the whole room itches to adjust their cuffs.

Silence is as good as a confession, they say. The thousands watching at home probably agree.

-

They call the press conference after nine minutes, a new record, and Jenson is up like a shot, untangling himself from the wires so fast that he has to take the scenic route to the door as everyone else is still getting to their feet.

Nico doesn’t take much stock in the soul marks but he likes Jenson, always has, and his obvious distress tugs at Nico’s resolve. He spares a brief thought into whether he would act the same way had he a different name across his arm and goes after Jenson, undecided.

Up ahead, he ducks into the men’s room and Nico follows.

The sight that greets him is one of listless defeat. Jenson is hunched over the row of sinks, eyes closed, as water drips from the end of his nose. When Nico clears his throat, he doesn’t start, he just slowly looks up to meet his reflection.

Someone out there probably has Nico’s name on their skin and in that moment, he wonders if there is any way he can take solace in that. Could it make things better; knowing someone out there loves you regardless?

“Can I show you something?” Nico asks, and it’s selfish that he wants to do this at all; the least he can do is ask first.

Jenson huffs out a breath. “Nico, mate, I don’t want to be rude but this really isn’t the best time.”

It hits like a punch and Nico wraps his hand around his arm, suddenly feeling like three layers is not enough to cover his shame. He nods reluctantly. “Yeah, of course, you’re right. I just…”

At this point, he should leave Jenson to his solitude. He should bind his arm up tight and start brainstorming tattoo designs to cover up this monstrosity but instead Nico steps closer. Going off his own experiences, he can only guess at what is causing this beaten down reaction in the man.

“Is it Jess?” he asks, voice echoing too loud in the hollow bathroom. “Is she angry at you because of all this?”

He feels he might be crossing a line but Jenson only laughs in response, sounding overly bitter. “I wish.” He pauses, considering an explanation and gives in. “No, she’s fine with it actually. It’s me. I’m the one who can’t look at her.”

“They don’t mean anything,” Nico says, lest he forget, and it turns out he’s misjudged just how close Jenson is to the edge because the reminder is all it takes to spark him into motion.

“You do not need to tell me that,” Jenson spits, and he spins away from the sink to perch on the end of the porcelain. “Believe me, I know. They’re a joke and not a very funny one.”

His fingers are already working at the buttons on his sleeve. Nico thinks about telling him to stop but never gets as far as saying the words.

The name he reveals is the last name he expects to read; it’s not Jess’ and certainly not his own and, despite the situation, Nico feels laughter bubbling in his chest. Reading the name again, he can’t hold it back. Any remaining curiosity he had about the marks is gone in an instant. They really are meaningless. This just proves it.

“Kimi?” he laughs, “Really?”

The letters are lighter than the ink Nico knows colours Jenson’s shoulder but they spell Kimi’s full name with the same fitting grace as the tattoo. Without its implications it would look as pretty, Nico thinks, then bites his tongue cutting short the thought.

Jenson only nods at him, eyes wide and imploring. “And that’s exactly the reaction I had,” he says, throwing his hand into the air and dismissing with it some of the tension in the room. “I didn’t even know he had a middle name,” he adds, and there’s levity there now that the burden has been lifted.

Nico moves to mirror Jenson’s position against the sinks and silence stretches out as everything digests in their minds. A tap drips down the seconds while Jenson’s shoulders slacken inch by inch. When he finally tilts his head, seeking Nico’s eyes, lethargy weighs him down and his smile is almost drunk. The look he gives him could easily be mistaken for affection but they’ve just made it perfectly clear the bond between them is in no way binding.

He gestures with his chin to the arm Nico’s using to hold himself up and says, “Come on, you might as well show me yours. I guessing it’s my name, I mean, why else would you be here?”

Ignoring the sting of his nonchalance, Nico pushes up his own sleeve and peels back the bandage. Sure enough, there it sits and Jenson chews on his bottom lip as he stares at the loops and curves of his name. He then takes Nico’s elbow in hand and lines their arms up together, skin against skin, and the names look extra ridiculous like this.

The fact that Nico’s name plays no part here shouldn’t dig at him like it does, but all this noiseless rejection is beginning to feel like a pattern.

“You should tell him,” Nico says, not daring to look up.

“You think?”

Nico shrugs. “I can’t see him making a big deal out of it. It would take the weight off of you anyway.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Jenson doesn’t sound convinced but Nico can understand that. He doesn’t exactly feel lighter from this conversation either and he pulls his arm away, realising this is too much touching for the men’s room setting. Jenson obviously doesn’t agree because he slings his arm over Nico’s shoulders and pulls him to his chest.

“You’re a real friend, Nico. Thanks for this. I was getting myself all worked up and it all seems rather silly now.”

Nico can only nod. It feels like forever since someone hugged him and really meant it and, as he stands awkward in Jenson’s embrace, he reminds himself just how fiercely he misses his wife.

-

Bernie, of all people, intercepts him as he’s leaving the track later that day. He makes no attempt to disguise his motive and stares hungrily at Nico’s arm the entire time it takes them to walk to the exit. It’s like he’s seen the effort Nico’s put into hiding his arm and wants, more than anything, to uncover it’s secret to the world.

A spoilt kid at Christmas is what he is and, to Bernie, any publicity is good publicity it seems.

He makes a withering noise, intent on putting Nico on his back foot, but Nico cuts in ahead.

“No,” he says, and it’s all he needs.

Bernie’s mouth snaps shut and the finger he’s holding aloft freezes before curling into his palm, defeated. He doesn’t even look at Nico, just huffs and drops away, coming back the way he came in search for someone more gullible.

He’ll be hard-lucked to find one here, Nico thinks, but knowing Bernie, he’ll find a way.

-

It’s later still when Nico wanders into the hotel bar, intent on drowning his sorrows despite not really understanding what they are or why he’s feeling them.

He already has a few drinks under his belt by the time Kimi wordlessly takes the seat next to him. There are a number of empty seats around them but Nico doesn’t care enough to question it. He’s just kind of glad for the company; especially as Kimi seems to attract the bar staff like flies to honey.

Miraculously his drink is refilled in seconds, along with Kimi’s first, and he salutes them both with it before he downs the shot and slams the upturned glass back onto the bar top. Nico shivers full body at the buzz and fails to notice how his sleeve has concertinaed and how the letters ‘t-t-o-n’ are now clearly on show.

Kimi, always ever watchful, obviously sees it but he doesn’t outwardly grimace, in fact his eyes carefully linger, and Nico is already so fucking sick of this, of how quickly everybody has found a new thing to be ashamed of, another thing to hide about themselves, that he just gives up.

Besides, knowing what he knows now, it’s almost as if Kimi deserves to be brought up to speed.

He grasps his sleeve and shoves it up to his elbow, laying his arm across the bar with as much dignity as the gesture allows. Jenson’s full name stares back at them, brimming with challenge.

“Can you believe it?” Nico says, sliding down on his stool to cushion his head on his bicep and it’s possible he might even be a little drunk. “I mean, scheiße, as if this job wasn’t already hard enough.”

“Does he know?”

Nico blinks through the dim lighting to see Kimi hunching over the bar like he actually cares about the answer and he snorts. “Of course he knows. I couldn’t have him finding out accidently, could I? Imagine reading that in the paper?”

Kimi knocks back his own drink and says, “You’re very brave,” so matter-of-factly that Nico grins at the compliment before he adds, “Most people hide them.”

And apparently alcohol is giving Nico the ability to not give a shit because he counters before stopping to think. “Like you, you mean.”

Now it’s Kimi turn to blink. “I don’t hide it,” he states, bringing his arm up next to Nico’s and it’s such a shame his tattoo is now ruined because he has always been partial to its sharp lines against pale flesh. “I don’t hide it,” Kimi repeats and Nico’s Dutch courage stretches yet further as he sits up and trails his fingers over the raised name hidden under all that ink.

He gets as far as tracing out ‘N-i-c’ before he chickens out.

The pieces of this fucked up jigsaw are starting to fall into place and despite all the bullshit he’s read, Nico has never come across a situation where three names bind together three different people before. The chances that they would all be staying in the same hotel, on the same night, having known each other for years, are astronomical. Not to mention utterly un-fucking-real.

His wedding ring lies heavy on his hand; equally as heavy is Kimi’s stare as he waits out Nico’s reaction.

“You have a baby,” Nico says at last.

Kimi nods. “You have a wife.”

Nico circles the remaining drop in his glass, hanging his head in contrition. Vivian hasn’t contacted him all weekend but it is a two way street, he knows that. He’s just a coward. “What about your…um, fiancé?” he asks instead.

“She knows.”

“And she’s okay with it?”

“One time deal,” Kimi shrugs and the guy could be talking about the weather for all it’s affecting him. “We both know who I will go home to.”

This is all heading in a direction that sounds like acceptance on both their parts and Nico sobers immediately.

“I’m not gay,” he says. As a defence it’s one he is usually tight-lipped about. Let people assume what they like, he thinks. But right now it’s the next logical step.

“I am not either.”

So Nico frowns, creasing the bridge of his nose. “Then what are we doing here?”

Kimi, completely devoid of shame, leans towards him and says, “I want to know if it is different.”

With a roll of his eyes, Nico flags down the barman again. “With a man?” he laughs, “I would definitely think so.”

“No,” Kimi corrects. “With you.”

In an instant, Nico’s mouth goes dry. Kimi isn’t his soulmate but it only takes two words to remind him he’s supposedly Kimi’s. Still, he doesn’t exactly feel pressured. He knows one word from him is all it would take for Kimi to shrug it all off. In fact, it’s his carefree way of offering that is giving Nico pause.

He’s lonely, he’s tipsy and not only does his wife not seem to want him anymore, his own soulmate had out rightly laughed in his face earlier. After a shaky breath, Nico takes the given opportunity to really look at the man next to him.

Kimi is handsome, sure, and on some occasions he’s even pretty. Not the kind of pretty Nico is often attributed with but more delicate somehow with eyes that can cut right through you.

The barman barely glances at them when he refills their glasses. Nico tips his back before he can move away and gestures for another.

“Did you try this on with Jenson too?”

While Nico doesn’t know for sure that they’ve had a conversation already, Kimi had reacted to the sight of Jenson’s name without a blink, and his seeking out of Nico just makes more sense this way. And, if that is the case, Nico wishes he could have been witness to it because he can’t even begin to imagine how that went.

“He wasn’t interested,” Kimi says, flatly, and Nico also wishes he didn’t feel jealous at that, at knowing he’s attempt number two but he can’t spend another year being second best, he really can’t. “It’s different anyway,” Kimi goes on, “he isn’t mine like you are.”

That sends Nico reeling. It’s so weird to think that there is someone in the world destined to want him. Weird but overwhelmingly powerful too, holding the kind of power that can get him drunk even without a drop of alcohol, let alone four consecutive shots.

Decision made, Nico downs his last shot and urges Kimi to drink his too because this night is about to get even weirder.

“Okay,” he says and Kimi brightens.

He always makes his worst decisions when he’s drunk.

-

Kimi’s hand digs like claws in his hip.

To be perfectly honest, Nico expects passion from the man. He’s read the stories, he’s heard the gossip; he knows Kimi isn’t a man to do things by half, with that including fucking. What he doesn’t expect is for it to start so soon.

Kimi’s hand is already on him as they leave the bar, nestled between his shoulder blades. It drops to his hip while they wait for the chime of the lift and it’s a grip of gentle steering that guides him through the open door.

Thankfully, they’re alone in the box and Kimi reaches into his back pocket for the key to his room which will allow them access to the higher floors. He puts the card into the slot and has to lean around Nico to press the correct button. His hair brushes Nico’s shoulder and he’s cut it recently, Nico notices, just as it was starting to get long again. It’s strange, for a man who says he doesn’t care about appearances, he sure messes around with his hair a lot.

They reach the thirteenth floor in complete silence; Kimi feeling there is nothing left to say and Nico unsure of what, if anything in this situation is suitable.

All the while, the hand never leaves him. As they pass doors of rising numbers, it moves to the small of his back to pinch Nico’s shirt between his fingers. It’s a constant reminder of what Nico is walking into and he’s glad it’s there, especially when Jenson appears from around the corner and there’s nowhere to run.

Kimi and Nico walking shoulder to shoulder is not a usual sight. Their faces are flushed from drink but drawn into incongruous seriousness. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on and Jenson has more insider knowledge than most. He raises a single eyebrow in question when he sees them, a look which both strengthens Nico’s spine and makes him want to shrink away.

“I don’t even know if I should feel betrayed or not,” Jenson says, and his eyes flicker between them, hiding who the apparent jealousy is really aimed at.

It comes as no surprise that, while Kimi acknowledges his existence with a look, Jenson’s interruption is not going to trip him up in any way and he continues to head for his room, trailing Nico at his side.

There’s a flicker of surprise, maybe even panic, that crosses Jenson’s face and where he was heading before is instantly forgotten. When Jenson falls into step with them, Nico, for the first time, truly believes that the marks might actually have a hold over them all.

They must make an odd sight; the three of them huddled around a door in an otherwise empty hallway. Kimi’s eagerness is easy to overlook but Nico sees the way he fumbles with the card in the door, having to remove it once before trying again. Jenson is at his back, shifting his weight from foot to foot like a man of indecision and it seems as if Nico is the only one managing to keep calm. The alcohol probably helps with that.

Finally the door swings open and Kimi is already toeing off his shoes and slipping his jacket down his arms. He heads straight for the minibar, leaving them to make their final decisions in the doorway.

Jenson lifts his arm and for a moment Nico thinks it’s intended for him and he recalls its warmth from earlier in the men’s room, comforting and steady. Instead Jenson reaches over him to hold the door open. They’re both waiting on the threshold of Kimi’s room and it’s sink or swim now, Nico thinks, before taking a step forward. He hears Jenson shut the door behind him with a soft click and then his warmth once again settles against Nico’s spine.

He doesn’t know what exactly has changed Jenson’s mind, Nico is only happy that he’s here now.

-

Kimi hands out some drinks, the kinds that come in little miniature bottles but cost more than the room. Jenson accepts his a little too fast but in fairness he has some catching up to do and he swigs back the entire bottle, not bothering to hide his grimace. From his seat on the bed, Nico only sips his.

All around the room there’s an undercurrent rhythm of jostling legs and tapping fingers, both geared up to go and hesitant to start. Kimi’s patience extends far enough that he gives Nico time to hang up his suit jacket out of habit, seeing as he only brought the one, but when Nico moves back to the bed, Kimi joins him. He sits angled towards him so that their knees touch. He doesn’t say a word but he’s asking for permission in his own little way and Nico nods.

At this point, he’s well versed in Kimi’s almost possessive touch and it feels good when he cups a hand around his neck to pull him into their first kiss.

And it’s nice, Nico thinks, though nothing more. It doesn’t ignite that fire in his belly which makes him want to grab hold of the person in front of him, but he does find himself enjoying the friction where skin is usually soft against his. Kimi’s lips are cold from the drink and he tastes the same. As they move against each other, experimenting, Nico lets his thoughts stray to Jenson, standing so close, and he pictures the perpetual scruff the man wears. Before he knows it, he’s wondering how different it would feel, if he would enjoy it even more, and he pulls away from Kimi wanting to find out.

Jenson is staring at them, empty bottle dangling from between his fingers. Kimi watches him watch Nico and gets up from the bed to approach him.

“Are you in or out?” he asks.

When Jenson doesn’t answer, Kimi asks again. Though, this time, it’s without words. He pulls Jenson down to his level and kisses the shit out of him. It’s probably not the best kind of kiss to start off with; almost an attack of tongue and teeth, but this encounter is unlikely to be something chaste. If he can’t handle the heat now, it’s only going to get worse.

To his credit, Jenson gives it his reactionary best but he’s soon pushing at Kimi’s chest and turning his head away. “No, no, it’s too weird. I can’t.”

Kimi shrugs, neither disappointed nor angry. ‘Whatever works’ is what he means and with that he turns his attention back to Nico. “You want to watch though?” Kimi asks and he’s talking to Jenson but his eyes never leave Nico’s face.

There’s a rustle of fabric, Jenson dragging his sweaty palms down his thighs and then a shaky voice. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Nico glances between them, having watched the whole exchange with a lump in his throat. He absently remembers the bottle in his hand and drains it before he settles back on his hands, letting his legs fall open. It gets the reaction he was hoping for; Jenson’s eyes widen and Kimi’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Jenson lifts his chin to groan at the ceiling, the very picture of frustration. “I can’t believe we’re even thinking about this,” he says and he spins away from the sight to face the blank wall behind him.

Kimi ignores him. He’s already gotten confirmation and he really hates to repeat himself. He tears his eyes from Nico, and it’s a difficult task, and says to the room, “I’ll get the stuff.”

He then disappears into the bathroom and Nico relaxes enough to run his eyes over the frustrated line of Jenson’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says and the shoulders curl ever higher before Jenson reluctantly turns. “I’m here because I want to be. You can leave if you don’t think you can’t handle it.” It sounds goading once he says it out loud but maybe that’s what Nico truly wants; Jenson fired up, present and here with them now, not slinking back to his room alone.

“Jesus, Nico, you can’t…you can’t want this, want him, not really.”

Nico grits his teeth. He doesn’t enjoy people telling him how he should feel but he keeps his mouth shut because starting an argument now will only harm things further. “Then leave,” he says, dropping back to his elbows and he delights in the way Jenson’s fists clench at his sides.

“This is crazy,” Jenson sighs and he takes a steadying breath before he goes on, his voice taking on the tone of a confession. “I didn’t speak to Jess earlier. I couldn’t. It’s these stupid marks, they’re making everyone crazy. I keep thinking things, things that I wouldn’t ever think, about you, about...” Here, his eyes drift towards the bathroom, to where Kimi is obviously hiding out, waiting for them to come to a conclusion, and once again Nico finds himself thinking back to the weird conversation they must have had. “I guess,” he finishes, words escaping him like a sigh, “if you did this, there would actually be something to feel guilty about.”

Their eyes lock and finally Nico isn’t the only one here making terrible decisions. Honestly, it’s something of a relief.

The door to the bathroom opens as if on cue and Kimi returns to them, his hands full. If he can feel the tense air, he obviously doesn’t care for it and he steamrolls towards the bed, shattering it as best he can. He throws down a handful of condoms followed by a small bottle that is definitely not liquor and Nico is torn between laughter and hysteria. It seems as though Kimi had plans for this race weekend before they’d even spoke.

Nico eyes the bottle of lube and its implications and finds he is already mentally prepared; he wouldn’t be here at all if he hadn’t already made peace with the fact. He knows how people usually see him, the jabs at his feminine face, calling him princess or, god forbid, Britney, so he gets his assumed role in this, which is why it’s such a surprise when Kimi reaches for the bottle and tosses it into his lap.

Again, he doesn’t say the words but Nico smiles at him all the same, feeling grateful.

-

Nico is all too aware of Jenson’s eyes on his back. They’re burning a hole in him just as Kimi’s hands are doing the same, pulling at his belt buckle and occasionally brushing against his stomach.

He’s standing, positioned between the open bracket of Kimi’s knees and his arms are hovering several inches above the broad scope of Kimi’s shoulders. It’s stupid to think of boundaries now, with Kimi unbuttoning his trousers and peeling down the zip, so Nico deigns to bury his fingers into the muscle there, only to have to snatch them away again seconds later when Kimi grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it up and off.

Nico shivers in the too warm room, blinking as the room goes dark and then too bright. He barely registers the light touch at his arm until he looks down in a daze to see Kimi dropping the ace bandage off the edge of the bed, leaving Nico feeling utterly naked despite the truth.

Kimi then removes his own clothes with even less ceremony.

Differing shades of colour immediately jump out at Nico without him even having to look for them; Kimi’s skin against the off-white sheets, his hair against the yellow glow of the lights and, more importantly, the paler lines of Nico’s name against the black of his tattoo. 

He can make out the letters clearly now and it sends a thrill through him, affording him the courage to reach out with both hands and tilt Kimi’s head back, bringing their mouths crashing together.

This kiss is better, Nico thinks; hot, wet and all-consuming. So much so, that he almost forgets Kimi is naked underneath him now. Though, it’s hard to ignore once Kimi falls back, pulling him along, and the rough material of his open trousers rub against Kimi in a way that has him rocking into it.

Multitasking is a talent all career drivers have and Kimi preps himself with slick fingers, reaching down between their bodies, no doubt giving Jenson quite a show. Nico can only feel gratitude. With the way his hands are shaking, he’s not sure he could manage it.

The first touch of Kimi’s hand on his cock is electric. He rolls the condom on for him, blind, as Nico doesn’t want to break the seal of their mouths and the warmed gel gets worked up and down, perfunctory at best. Kimi’s still wet hand then wraps around his bicep, waiting.

Five minutes ago they were colleagues; now Nico’s not sure what he’ll ever be able to think.

“Okay,” Kimi says, against his mouth, only sounding slightly winded, and Nico’s answering laugh is a huff of breath, wild and incredulous.

He flounders because, hell, who wouldn’t?

It’s not until Kimi hooks his foot around his thigh that Nico surrenders, falling bodily and whole-heartedly into this thing that’s _going_ to happen.

At first, Kimi shifts uncomfortably as Nico presses into him, a reminder of the speed they’re moving, naught to sixty in an instant, but he pulls Nico closer, urging him on. Once he’s fully in and he feels Kimi relax around him, he draws out slowly to ease back in with the same amount of care. It feels like nothing he’s ever felt before and as he moves, Nico lets out his held in breath with a pathetic sounding whine.

There comes a choked off gasp behind him and Nico’s head snaps towards the noise. Honestly, he’d forgotten Jenson was even in the room and, if he wasn’t already achingly hard, buried deep in tight heat, watching Jenson dig the heel of his palm against his covered cock would have done the job. Kimi rocks his hips underneath him, getting used to sensation, and Nico can’t tear his eyes away from Jenson slouched low in a chair on the other side of the room. The expression on his face is mostly hidden by his hand but the lust shines bright in his eyes as he watches them.

Kimi growls, the vibration doing wonders for them both, and he orders Nico to move. Turning his back on Jenson, Nico complies.

-

The brush of a hand over his shoulder is something Nico craves. When he gets it, he’s entirely convinced he imagined it.

He’s hunched over Kimi, leisurely snapping his hips forward to meet the movement Kimi’s giving back, and he’s in no rush, just enjoying the way Kimi wantonly arches into it. He doesn’t fully register the extra hand on him until it slides down his spine and fingers dip into the waist of his trousers, which are now hanging dangerously low on his hips.

“You have no idea what you look like,” Jenson whispers into the nape of his neck, “both of you. I want…” he trails off, he can’t say the words. Another time Nico would have dragged them out of him, made him say it, but he’s already too far gone to care. “Can I?” Jenson manages instead and it’s enough.

Nico twists until he finds Jenson’s lips. He nods into the kiss, which is more of a punch with open mouths than a desperate caress. The rasp of Jenson’s grief grown beard is an entirely new sensation; one Nico is probably going to miss for the rest of his life.

Before he knows it, there are fingers curling inside of him. Overwhelming is the best way Nico can describe it. And when Jenson slides his whole length inside, the sense of filling and being filled almost spills him over the edge.

Jenson doesn’t give him much time to acclimatise before he’s flush against Nico’s back, every thrust lifting him up onto his toes. Jenson is still fully dressed and lined up like they are, they look like a before, during and after image of a man undressing. Only, a total mess of a man, debauched and willing.

Jenson’s thrusts soon shift deeper but turn erratic, doing the work for the both of them and Nico allows himself to be pressed further into Kimi’s chest as it hitches in time with Jenson’s movements.

The noises that are being forced out of them fill the room. They’re all so in sync now; he knows they’re not going to last much longer.

Jenson plasters his front along Nico’s back, rutting frantically, and the hand he has on his hip tightens to the brink of pain. His other hand, which is the only thing keeping him from crushing the two bodies beneath him, grasps at the pillow under Kimi’s head. All it takes is Kimi turning his head to mouth at the last couple of letters on Jenson’s wrist and he’s coming with a growl that Nico feels travel up his spine. It gets buried into the nape of his neck and Nico comes straight after, quietly and with a shudder.

There’s a brief moment of complete stillness, broken shamelessly when Jenson rolls off of him. Nico follows too with a whimper when he pulls out of Kimi. He’s aiming for the gap in between them but doesn’t quite make it. In the end, he lies half across them both, panting and sweaty though undoubtable satisfied.

In his exhaustion he completely forgets about Kimi, who is rock hard and probably very frustrated at his side. Though, by the time he curls up to face him, Jenson is already reaching over to replace Kimi’s hand on himself.

It only takes a few strokes until his back arches and his cock pulses in Jenson’s hand. He doesn’t make a sound, just slowly exhales one pent up breath, and Jenson drags his dirtied palm down Kimi’s thigh, chuckling lightly when Kimi lazily swots at him. It’s half-hearted because he’s already mostly asleep.

Once their breathing evens, Nico can practically feel Jenson’s nervous energy vibrating through his skin, a direct contrast to the light snores coming from Kimi, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before Jenson tries to escape.

So Nico wraps a tethering hand around Jenson’s forearm; it doesn’t change a thing that it’s not his name there because there’s a different level of trust that’s earned having given yourself over completely, one a meaningless mark can’t compete with.

It’s enough to get Jenson to settle and finally Nico is allowed to succumb to the pull of a good night’s sleep.

They can worry about the repercussions tomorrow.

-

Not surprisingly, Nico wakes alone in a room that isn’t his. And, once again, he’s left wondering just how the conversation between his bed-mates went without him.

He glances down at his arm and doesn’t feel an accompanying pang of shame. So that’s something. But the shame only comes later, when his gaze moves onto his hand where his wedding ring sits.

Nico gathers his clothes and leaves soon after.

-

Nico gets a single text over the course of the day. He opens it, paying little attention to the sender, and his heart jumps into his throat the moment he reads it.

**I don’t love you.**

His hand instantly leaps to his ring and he twists it in circles before he remembers to check the source. It’s not from Vivian and the relief soaks him from head to toe. Instead, the number is unlisted.

A second message comes through as his heart is trying to find a rhythm.

**The marks don’t mean anything. Talk to your wife.**

Kimi, Nico realises, is sending him advice and the very idea has him laughing loud and unrestrained in the Mercedes prep room.

He reads it again. It’s good advice.


End file.
